


Scars

by TheElusiveOllie



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, Self-Harm, tragic abuse of syntax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheElusiveOllie/pseuds/TheElusiveOllie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has gathered a lot of scars over the years. He never really noticed before, but it's just so obvious once he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

It’s only upon closer examination that he notices that he’s positively _covered_ in scars.

Some of them are tiny, insignificant. Some of their origins he can’t quite recall, and still others only prickle at the very rear corners of his memory.

There’s the faint white pinprick on his thumb, from when he was six. He cut himself on his thumb while eating one of those tasteless hospital meals, though whether it was because of a knife or some very creative maneuvering with a fork, Tim could not say.

That time had been an accident.

Then there are the slightly paler scratches across his knees. He remembers those quite well. He’d managed to get out of his room, the room before he was transferred to the dark windowless one, by throwing rocks at his window until it shattered. He’d gotten out that night, fled into Rosswood, but had scraped his knees on the broken glass by doing so.

There are still faint scars on his palms and shins too, but the ones on his knees stand out the most.

There’s the odd-shaped discolored patch on his back, from when the hospital caught fire and he hadn’t gotten out of his room quickly enough.

There’s the mark on his leg, from the injury he still can’t remember ever getting, but now knows that it got there courtesy of a cement block and one very angry Mr. Alex Kralie.

There are the ones on his wrist, the reasons he took so long to get out of high school. They’re not as faded as he’d like, but they’re just light enough to serve as a reminder. There aren’t many of them, and all but one go across.

One slopes crookedly down.

Tim has his own personal set of reminders, permanently seared into his skin and his thought and the walls of his memory.

Yes, Tim’s body is just as battered and broken as his mind.

No, wait. That’s a lie.

((Tim is good at lies))

Tim’s mind is _much_ more of a mess. Scarred and bruised and crumbling under the weight of years of collateral damage.

Yes, Tim is broken in every sense of the word, from body to spirit.

Sometimes he marvels at the fact that he is still alive, after all this.

((if one could call it living))

((he still has dreams that he isn’t sure of; if they are just nightmares or memories or _messages_ or something else))

Tim is a Troubled Young Man with Inconclusive Symptoms.

((that’s what the doctors would say, anyway))

A Troubled Young Man who Wouldn’t Take His Pills.

((now Tim takes them without complaint))

A Troubled Young Man with a High Suicide Risk.

((that’s a lie))

((but no, it’s not, not really))

Tim takes his pills and lies down and hopes for sleep.

He hopes that whatever _things_ he does in the dead of the night don’t, for once, result in him waking up with blood in his hair and fresh mysterious injuries to add to his already vast collection of scars.

He hopes he doesn’t remember those _things._

He hopes to forget.

Forgetting is easier.

 


End file.
